Rain
by Angela Pirate Ryoko
Summary: Just a short moment when Wolfwood is reminded of just how amazing Vash can be.


Rain

by the Space Pirate Ryoko

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I noticed the change in pressure first.  Millie gleefully skipped her red disk over two of mine.  "King me!" she chirped cheerfully, apparently unaware of the drastic disturbance in the air.  The room felt cooler, but somehow space seemed heavy, loaded with electric charges that put my hair on end.  I'd never felt anything like it.

A breeze creaked open the swinging saloon doors, making me look up.  The wind was cool--almost ten degrees cooler--and damp.  

Millie sniffed, forgetting her game.  "Mr. Wolfwood?" she asked timidly.  "Mr. Wolfwood, does the air smell funny to you?"

It did.  Like earth from a newly-dug well, like the heavy scent of a sponge left too long in water. 

I stood and walked to the doorway, an uneasy prickle at the back of my neck.  It was too dim for early afternoon.  Dark clouds had covered the sun, darkening the steady blue sky and pulling the town into an early twilight.  I stood on the porch and watched the swirling grey--clouds were rare; I'd seen them only two or three times before.

Lightning charged and crackled, outlining the clouds with brilliant color.  Millie cowered behind me.  I'd seen lightning before--bright bolts of yellow or blue streaking across the sky, most often from one rare cloud to another, but sometimes down to earth.  When it hit a town or farm, fire was the inevitible conclusion. 

"Lightning," I explained to Millie.  A bright bolt fell to the earth a few miles away, sending a cold shiver down my spine.  Loud thunder split the sky, rattling the windows and making Millie squeak.  "It's caused by heat.  I doubt it will hurt us."

"What makes it so loud?"  

Just as I was about to answer, the sky burst.  With a rush almost as loud as the thunder, water poured from the clouds.  Within seconds it had washed away the afternoon heat, turned the dusty roads into dark brown clay.  The pounding of it against the tin porch roof was deafening, but I was too astounded to move.

Rain.

In all the years of my life, I'd never seen rain.  Precious water falling from the sky--I'd been told it could happen, that it wasn't just a childhood myth, but I'd only half-believed in it.

Pale grey wood of weathered buildings became slick and brown again.  The cracked earth soaked up the water greedily and dust became mud on the ground.  Over the roar of water against tin, I could hear the thomases crying. 

My hands were shaking as I reached beyond the shelter of the porch, stretching my fingers out to catch the rain.  So wet.  It streamed over my hands and soaked into my shirt cuffs.  Cold.  Without thinking, I brought my fingers to my mouth, sucking the water from them.  

Shouts and cries surrounded us as the townspeople realized the miracle they were witnessing.  Children dashed into the streets, mouths wide to catch the water.  Women carried pots and tubs and every vessel imaginable, setting them out on window ledges and sidewalks to collect the precious rain.  I heard Millie call for Meryl, darting inside to wake her friend from her nap.

Then I noticed him.  Vash.  He stood in the middle of the once-dusty street, his face tilted upward toward the sky.  Rain sluiced over his face and hair, coursing down the shiny leather of his coat to puddle around his boots.  His eyes were closed, his face serene and still.  It was as though he were being fed by the water, as though he were absorbing it and gaining power from it.  

Lightning tore through the sky, and for an instant his pale face gleamed green against the dark clouds.  The bouncing rain looked like a glowing aura, splashing from his upturned face and shoulders.  His hair was flat and heavy with water; it streamed down his neck and beneath his collar.  He stood perfectly still.

And I realized that he'd seen rain before.  The easy comfort in his stance, the lack of surprise in his features betrayed him.  This was his rain.

But how?  I took all three steps in one stride, ignoring the mud that splashed over my shoes and onto my pants.  Rain soaked me, making my hair run into my eyes and putting out the cigarette that hung from my lips.  My clothes became cold, clammy against my skin.  I didn't care.  I walked to where Vash stood--he was the only man I'd called a friend for as long as I could remember--and asked him how he'd made it rain.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the water that clung to his lashes.  His gaze was sober, quiet.  He didn't answer.

"How?" I urged, grasping his shoulders and shaking.  If he could do this, if he could make it rain, then why now?  Why not before, for all the desperate, dehydrated towns we'd come through?  "How did you do this?"

Vash looked up at the sky, not bothering to close his eyes as the rain pounded his face.  "All I did was wish," he explained quietly.  He lifted his hands to feel more of the water.  

I let go, closing my eyes and opening my mouth like a kid, trying to drink enough to quench my lifelong thirst.  It was better than brandy.  It ran, cool and sweet down my throat.  I believed him.  As crazy as it sounded, I believed him--believed that the gods would grant any wish made by Vash the Stampede. 

Millie and Meryl ran out to join us, transforming Vash into the big goofy oaf he always pretended to be for them.  I studied him for a long time, wondering for the millionth time what was so special about him.  He grinned at me over Meryl's head and I found myself smiling, deciding that it wasn't my place to question miracles today.  Grabbing Millie's hands, I swung her around, feeling like a child again as we all celebrated the rain. 

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end


End file.
